


Bold Adventures

by scribblemoose



Series: Merlin Missing Scenes Fics [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-17
Updated: 2010-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by episode 1.02: Valiant and an obsession with black shirts. But mostly just by the wonderous slashy goodness that is Arthur and Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bold Adventures

**Author's Note:**

> Title from William Penn quote: "A true friend unbosoms freely, advises justly, assists readily, adventures boldly, takes all patiently, defends courageously, and continues a friend unchangeably." I love that quote; it sums up Merlin's friendship for Arthur perfectly for me.

Somewhere in between Merlin seeing Arthur as nothing more than an insufferable prat, and Merlin seeing Arthur as a dangerously heroic potential king with insufferable prattish tendencies, there were a few hours wherein Merlin was introduced to the concept of Arthur as a bit of a sex god and a surprisingly generous lover.

They were among the most pleasant hours Merlin had yet spent at Camelot, and he could never remember them afterwards without a foolish grin appearing on his face.

To say that having sex with Arthur was unexpected was like saying Ealdor got a bit chilly in winter. Merlin was a perfectly normal young man with all the normal urges. Up to the point where he left home, he had indulged these urges enthusiastically with the help of his right hand (when he could find an excuse to find ten minutes' privacy in the hayloft) or Will (last summer, before Will got all odd and said they should save it for girls) or in his sleep by dreaming about the time he'd accidentally seen Aisleyne bathing in river (he'd volunteered to do the laundry every week after that but it never happened again). Merlin tended to get very nervous around girls, especially if he fancied them. Things with Will developed naturally over a long time - they'd grown up together, after all, and Merlin would go and stay the night at Will's place from time to time after Will's father died. For Will it seemed to be more about curiosity and comfort than anything else. But for Merlin it was more than that: there were other boys in the village he wouldn't mind experimenting a bit with, although he'd never acted on it. The children in the village were very clear about what should happen to boys who did things with boys (it wasn't very nice), and Merlin had enough secrets to get into trouble with, thank you very much.

So when Merlin arrived in Camelot he was realistic about his chances (girls - slim due to inability to form sentences around them; boys - inadvisable), but more than willing to embrace whatever encounters and adventures came his way.

And Merlin being Merlin, adventures were, of course, inevitable.

What was far less inevitable was the moment Arthur turned to him and said, all tousled and sweaty from the tournament, "Okay, you got me into it. Let's see if you can get me out of it."

It took Merlin (who at that moment was juggling the various plates, jugs and baskets that held Arthur's supper) a couple of seconds to realise that Arthur was talking about his armour. "Oh, right. Hang on a minute." He managed to get everything on the table without dropping or spilling much or even making a huge amount of noise, which he was pretty proud of. Then he turned his attention to Arthur, who was just standing there _waiting_. As if he were totally incapable of undressing himself at all.

To be fair, he had taken his helmet and sword off. Merlin thought perhaps he should be grateful of small mercies, and set about getting Arthur out of the armour he'd wrapped him in so carefully that morning.

You'd think it would be easier to take things off than put them on, but when it came to Arthur's armour this turned out not to be the case at all. Everything had shifted and settled and solidified over the course of the day. One of the buckles was jammed, its tongue battered flat by the impact of some weapon or other. Links of mail were tangled with bits of gambeson, and knots were pulled tight under strain as Arthur had (rather magnificently, Merlin had to admit) thrown himself about on the tournament ground. And as if it wasn't all complicated enough, Merlin's fingers were far from their usual dextrous selves, due not least to the fact they kept trembling whenever he got close enough to feel the body heat pouring off Arthur, or to smell his skin. Arthur smelt of sweat and outdoors and metal, and for some reason that _did things_ to Merlin. Things he would never have expected to associate with Arthur at all.

"Hurry up, Merlin. I'd like to get round to supper before midnight, if that's all right with you?"

"Won't be long now," said Merlin optimistically, tearing a tie off and mentally adding its repair to the already overlong list of jobs he'd have to do before the next morning.

"I'll need a bath," Arthur said. "And did you get my clothes ready? There's this reception in the grand hall I have to go to."

"Bath's ready behind the screen, Sire," Merlin said, proud of himself for thinking of it. "Clothes on the bed." The final knot on Arthur's gambeson came loose at last, and Merlin rose to his feet as Arthur shrugged it off his shoulders. He wore a white linen shift underneath, dirty and sweat-stained, sticking to his skin. "Do you need any more help with, um, that?"

"No, thank you. I can manage."

Merlin left him to it and started to collect up Arthur's armour. It was ridiculously heavy, but Merlin couldn't find it in him to feel sorry for himself. Arthur had carried it on his shoulders all day, fighting for long hours in the hot sun. Merlin could barely imagine how Arthur wasn't collapsing into a heap of sweaty exhaustion at his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin could see Arthur stripping off his shirt. He had his back to Merlin, arms crossed, grasping the thing at the hem and peeling it off his body in a long, slow pull. Merlin found himself watching in slow motion for a few seconds, staring wide-eyed like an idiot, without even realising what he was doing.

Here and there on Arthur's back the golden skin was marred with the blush of a fresh bruise or the dark crimson of a cut. _Arnica_, thought Merlin. _Clove and Ginger oil._

Arthur sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing, his left shoulder clearly giving him trouble.

"Give me that," Merlin said, softly, and took the undershirt that hung limply from Arthur's left hand. Merlin stuffed it into a damp ball and tossed it on the laundry pile. Arthur pulled his socks off and started to unlace his trousers, while Merlin turned away. "Is there anything else?" Merlin asked.

"Bring me something to drink." Merlin caught a glimpse of perfectly rounded buttock as Arthur disappeared behind the screen.

Merlin sloshed some ale in a tankard, spilling a fair bit on the table. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to leave the mess in favour of fulfilling Arthur's request before he had a chance to get snarky about it.

Arthur was in the tub, water lapping at his waist and knees as he settled himself.

"Here." Merlin managed to hand Arthur his ale without spilling any at all, which he was rather proud of. His eyes were drawn inevitably to Arthur's back and shoulders, damp now, water trickling down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" Merlin asked.

"Does what hurt?"

"After the fighting. You've got a bit banged up."

Arthur laughed. "Your concern is touching, Merlin, but it's nothing. Barely a scratch."

"It's not nothing," Merlin chided. "It might not seem much to you, but you need to be careful of things like that. It doesn't take much for a wound to get infected, even a small one. You don't want a fever."

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him, part-impressed, part-amused. "Gaius would be proud, Merlin."

"It's common sense, really."

Arthur picked up a washrag and threw it at Merlin, who caught it (just) before it landed on the floor.

"Go on then," Arthur said. "Wash my back."

"Oh, _thanks_," said Merlin with a wry grin.

He wetted the rag, wrung it out a bit and started to clean Arthur's wounds. Dabbing gently, careful of bruises and sore muscles. Rinsing out grit and sweat and dirt and dried blood and bits of linen-fluff.

Arthur made a gruff sort of noise, and relaxed his shoulders.

"You were good out there today." Merlin scooped up a palmful of water to rinse Arthur's back.

"Thanks."

"Knight Valiant, do you think he-"

Arthur's muscles tightened instantly. "I'm going to hear enough about the tournament and Knight bloody Valiant tonight. I don't need it from you as well."

Merlin started to knead Arthur's shoulders, keen to undo the tension again. "Alright then. What about-"

"Silence would be really good, Merlin. Think you could manage that for ten seconds?"

Merlin pressed his lips together, and tried. Tried really hard. But it was difficult; talking kept his mind off what he was doing, and how good it felt to have Arthur's skin under his fingers, muscles shifting and writhing, everything slick and growing more pliant by the second. This was important, because noticing these things also made Merlin aware of a number of other things he'd very much like to do to Arthur's body. And that way lay confusion, danger and almost certainly a sacking, if not a beheading. An interesting way to scupper destiny, but probably not very wise.

Arthur splashed about, oblivious to Merlin's lecherous musings, washing himself efficiently and quietly. He didn't seem to want Merlin to stop massaging his shoulders, so Merlin didn't. After a while, when Arthur was clean and still, Merlin took things a little lower, working out the kinks along Arthur's spine. Just below the waterline Arthur's lower back ticked with little spasms; Merlin spread his palms flat and dug his fingertips in, smoothing everything back into its proper place and forcing Arthur's tired muscles to relax.

Arthur made another of those noises and leaned forwards, gripping the sides of the tub to stretch his back out for Merlin to worship. Work on. Yes, that's it. He was _working_.

Merlin trailed his fingers down from Arthur's neck, one thumb either side of his spine, down and down to the small of his back. Merlin could just feel the very start of the swell of Arthur's buttocks. Without any input from his brain, his hands cupped Arthur's surprisingly slender hips.

Merlin froze.

Arthur cleared his throat.

"Um," said Merlin.

"Thanks," Arthur said, briskly. "That's all for now."

"Are you sure? If you want, I could..."

But Arthur was already standing up to get out of his bath, all strong limbs and taut buttocks, water streaming from his body. Merlin fumbled around for the drying-cloth he'd laid out near the fire and held it up in front of him like a screen, trying not to look. Arthur took it from him and wrapped himself up, scrubbing at his hair with the loose ends. He strode out into the room, Merlin following uncertainly.

"I should, um," Merlin floundered.

"If you're going to be my manservant," Arthur said, "we should probably establish some ground rules."

Merlin wondered what he'd done wrong now. Washing Arthur's back. That was it. Almost certainly. Unless it was that thing yesterday with the socks. "Sire?"

"There's some things, certain _activities_ that other people expect their servants to do. But I don't."

"I don't suppose emptying your bathwater would be one of those?"

Arthur gave Merlin a look that was distinctly disapproving, but with an underlying smirk. Merlin liked how he could do both at the same time, it was like sharing secrets. "Don't be ridiculous, Merlin."

"Right. Not the bathwater, then."

"I'm talking about more personal things."

"Like washing your back?" Merlin said quickly, to get it over with.

"Well, not exactly but yes, that _sort_ of thing." Then just as Merlin's heart was sinking, Arthur added, "What I mean is that I expect you to do your job, Merlin, but I don't ever want to take advantage of you in a personal, um, physical way. Is that understood?"

"Oh! Oh, um, yes. I think so."

"Good."

"But...."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Merlin?"

"I suppose if you _wanted_ something that wasn't exactly my job...." Merlin bit his lower lip. He wasn't sure if this was going to send him straight to the stocks (or worse), but Arthur seemed to be in a spectacularly good mood and there was never going to be a _better_ time. "You could still ask. I mean, you can still ask. For anything. Anything at all. I might say no, depending what it is, but...." Merlin looked up and locked his gaze with Arthur's, to be sure. "I might say yes."

Arthur swallowed hard, his eyes still fixed on Merlin's, wide and honest. "You might say yes?"

"Yes," said Merlin. "I mean. _Yes_."

"But how do you-"

"If you're asking," Merlin added. "If not, well, just ignore me, I suppose." He tried for a cheery grin.

"I have to know you can say no," Arthur said, his voice tight.

Merlin shrugged. "Oh, I'm more than capable of saying no. I'm still going to give you a fight over that bathwater. Believe me, Arthur, you can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

Which made Arthur laugh, a real, spontaneous laugh, his head tipped back and eyes sparkling. Merlin realised he liked to hear Arthur laugh a _lot_. He may be an insufferable prat but.... well, it was about then that Merlin realised he could live with that if he got to share the rest as well.

"I should get something to put on your wounds," Merlin said. "It won't take me a minute to go down and ask Gaius."

"There's some stuff in the cupboard. Believe it or not, Merlin, this isn't the first scratch I've had on the tournament field."

"Right." Merlin pulled the screen back to hide the bath and crossed to the cupboard Arthur had indicated. He smiled to see a pot marked, in Gaius's immaculate handwriting, 'Clove &amp; Ginger'. There wasn't any Arnica, though. Arthur probably thought treating bruises was somehow unmanly. Merlin made a mental note to fetch some the next day.

Arthur was sitting on the bed when he turned back, drying cloth wrapped neatly around his waist. His hair stuck up in damp tufts. He turned his back for Merlin to tend, arms folded loosely across his chest.

Merlin's fingers shook a bit as he scooped up salve and stroked it smoothly over the largest of the cuts, across Arthur's right shoulder. It must have stung but Arthur didn't flinch; his shoulder twitched almost imperceptibly, just once. Merlin wanted suddenly, urgently, to break down that control and find out what Arthur was like underneath it.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Merlin, about what I said just now."

Merlin ignored the pounding of his heart in his chest and brushed his lips very, very lightly over Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur shivered. Merlin held his breath.

Nothing happened.

Merlin did it again. This time he let his tongue dart out and spot-lick the soft dip at the base of Arthur's neck.

Arthur turned his head, and kissed Merlin on his cheek. On his nose. His mouth.

Merlin lost his mind completely and kissed Arthur back with nothing short of passion. Probably it was wildly inappropriate, and from the surprised sort of noise Arthur made, it was certainly unexpected, but Merlin couldn't find it in himself to care. The Dragon wanted him to bond with Arthur? Right. Merlin would show the jumped-up lizard what _bonding_ meant.

He rather hoped the Dragon couldn't actually read his thoughts.

"Merlin, are you sure-"

Merlin gave Arthur a wicked, narrow-eyed smile. He didn't have to say anything. Arthur smiled right back, and pulled Merlin down onto the bed.

*

If Merlin had wondered what Arthur might be like in bed (which he might have, briefly, during the rare moments in the past few days that Arthur wasn't being a prat), he would never have guessed it would be like this. He'd expected there would be a fair bit of showing-off and bragging, and there was no reason to expect that Arthur wouldn't be as skilled at this as any other physical pursuit he turned his hand (or other body parts) to, but when it came down to it, Merlin thought he'd be selfish, egocentric and about as sensitive as a block of wood. Fast, hard but probably quite satisfying in a shallow sort of way. Merlin didn't mind that. He was as horny as a toad and there was no denying that at that moment he craved Arthur's body like a drowning man craved air.

But it turned out that his imagination had done Arthur a great injustice. At least where sex was concerned.

Arthur lay Merlin down on his soft bed, and stroked his hair back from his face, whispering like an echo, "There's something about you, Merlin..." while Merlin stared up at him with wide eyes. Arthur kissed him softly, without tongue, rubbing Merlin's cheekbone gently with his thumb, until Merlin couldn't stand it and took it deep and hard, plunging his tongue between Arthur's lips. To his dismay, Arthur pulled back a little, far enough that he could focus properly on Merlin's face. Arthur looked surprised, but not unpleasantly so. There was a twinkle in his eyes (which were, Merlin noticed probably for the first time, not just blue but _incredibly_ blue).

"So there is _something_ you can be enthusiastic about apart from getting into trouble," Arthur observed.

"Oh yes," said Merlin, voice low, grinning.

"Well, if it's alright with you I'd like this to last more than thirty seconds, so do you think you can calm down just a little bit?"

Merlin nodded. "I can probably manage that."

"Good."

Arthur stroked Merlin's jaw very softly with one fingertip, trailing down his throat to the notch between his collarbones. Merlin lay very still, watching Arthur's face as Arthur studied him, watching the path his fingers took as they moved softly down his breastbone until they met the laces of his shirt.

"I think we need to get that off, don't you?" Arthur said.

"Shall I?"

Arthur nodded. "If your attempts to undress me last night were anything to go by, you could use the practise."

Merlin could have said a good many things about how it was strangely difficult to undo things when they were all mirror-way round; how he had been exhausted and ready for bed himself; how Arthur had refused to stay still while Merlin wrangled the knots undone - but he didn't. He grasped the hem of his shirt and tugged at it. Of course he'd forgotten all about his belt so everything got tangled up somewhere around his armpits, which Arthur found hysterically funny.

"Really Merlin," Arthur gasped out between snorts of laughter, "if you can't undress yourself it's no wonder you have trouble undressing anyone else."

Merlin paused in his struggles, and glared fiercely at Arthur. "I got a little distracted, believe it or not. Just don't let it go to your head."

"Here." Arthur took pity on him, deftly twitching Merlin's belt undone and helping him out of his shirt and undershirt. "Never say I don't do anything for you."

Merlin shivered as the air hit his bare skin. The quilt on Arthur's bed was deliciously soft against his back. Arthur tossed Merlin's shirt on the floor and set about stroking Merlin's sides, his belly, his chest, lingering at his nipples until Merlin squirmed.

"Good or ticklish?"

"Good," Merlin gasped.

Arthur grinned a long, slow and surprisingly sexy grin at him, and Merlin felt ridiculously happy. He reached up and touched Arthur's chest in return, pleased when Arthur's eyes fluttered shut in response. Merlin twitched his fingers at the drying-sheet around Arthur's hips, which obediently slithered down Arthur's thighs, rendering him naked.

"You seem to have the advantage of me, Merlin," Arthur said, drily.

"Sorry, is there some sort of etiquette that I have to take my clothes off first?"

"I think we left etiquette behind about half an hour ago."

"Oh, good," said Merlin. "I thought I missed a chapter." He ran his hands down Arthur's back and rested his palms boldly on Arthur's buttocks. Arthur raised an eyebrow but he looked quite pleased, and the part of Arthur that was extremely hard and pressing into Merlin's hip seemed very pleased indeed.

Arthur untied the laces of Merlin's trousers and moved to one side to let Merlin wriggle out of them, and his underthings, and the whole jumbled mess of clothing that was briefly trapped around his ankles until he thought to remove his boots. He was about to take off his socks when Arthur said, far too casually, "no, you can leave them on."

"Really?" Merlin said, and Arthur shrugged, also far too casually, as one hand very tenderly caressed Merlin's fluffy-socked foot.

"It's getting chilly, don't you think? Don't want you touching me with cold feet," Arthur said, gruffly, and kissed Merlin before he had a chance to laugh. They pressed their bodies together, Merlin shifting one leg to hook over Arthur's hip so they could get even closer, socked foot stroking the back of Arthur's knee. It felt perfect, Arthur kissing him with an uninhibited passion that Will had never shown. It felt _right_. Merlin found himself tensing, waiting for Arthur to ruin it with some arrogant, idiotic remark. But minutes passed and Arthur was nothing but considerate, warm and, Merlin had to admit, very skilled.

"So, have you done this much, before um....?" Merlin asked, gasping little snatches of breath between each word as Arthur kissed his neck, teased his nipple and kept him still with one broad palm across his belly.

"That's not a very discreet question, Merlin."

"I'm not asking for names."

Arthur raised his head so he could see Merlin's face. "Not as much as I'd like," said Arthur. "You?"

"Definitely not as much as I'd like." Merlin grinned at him.

"Well, let's see if we can do something about that." Arthur's hand shifted on Merlin's stomach, his knuckles catching Merlin's cock. Merlin gasped. Arthur grinned evilly and ran one fingertip along the length of it. Merlin made an incoherent sort of squeaking noise and felt sudden heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Arthur began to trail his wet tongue down Merlin's chest, hooking Merlin's cock to one side with a single finger so he could lick Merlin's belly button.

Merlin burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. "Ticklish," he gasped out, between giggles, but Arthur didn't stop, at least not straight away. He wiggled his tongue around, holding Merlin still with strong hands on his hips, nose brushing against the tip of Merlin's cock. Merlin whimpered as the squirmy-tickly sensation of Arthur's tongue warred with the swift jolt of pleasure through his dick.

Arthur raised his head, grinning. Merlin tried to give him a disapproving look, but he suspected it just ended up sort of squinty and lacking in anything other than a dare for Arthur to do it again.

Which of course, Arthur did.

But this time, just as Merlin was trying to summon the co-ordination to shove him off, Arthur's tongue skirted from Merlin's wet, icky-tickly bellybutton to Merlin's impossibly hard, needy cock. And then Merlin was done for. Completely, entirely done for.

Will never really liked to do this very much. He would, because he was nice and fair-minded, and he liked it a lot when Merlin did it to him. But Arthur was different. Arthur's lips slipped over the head of Merlin's cock and sank down the shaft and Arthur's tongue slithered over him and Arthur _moaned_ with pleasure. Arthur's eyes fluttered shut and he started to suck and his hands stroked along Merlin's flanks and he made little _mmmm_ noises, and Merlin fell quietly and gloriously to pieces.

Arthur _liked_ it. There was nothing mechanical or technical about the way he sucked Merlin's cock. He slurped and licked and hollowed his cheeks and rubbed and teased and all the while Arthur's breath was getting shorter, his skin more flushed, the tremble of his fingers more intense against Merlin's skin. When Merlin squeaked out "Stop!" for fear of coming too soon, Arthur raised his head and grinned at him; his lips were red and friction-plump, his eyes bright and shining with lust.

"You can fuck me," Merlin said.

"Can I, now?" Arthur said, head cocked to one side in amusement. He licked his lips briefly and all Merlin could do was stare at his mouth.

"Yes," Merlin murmured, weakly.

"Have you done it before?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, lots of times."

Arthur looked at him.

"Not exactly," Merlin said. "I... no."

Arthur's expression turned feral for a moment, undeniably excited.

"I've done plenty of other stuff," Merlin said. "Don't get carried away with the idea I'm a...."

"Virgin? Of course not, Merlin, what would give you that idea?"

"I'm not a virgin," Merlin said, firmly. He was tempted to explain in detail every single thing he and Will had ever done (including the thing with the carrot), and probably a few other things that he'd only imagined. But there was something keen and bright in Arthur's eyes that stopped him.

"Whatever you say, Merlin," Arthur said, and then, with an honest, bloody ridiculously _noble_ look that made Merlin melt a little inside. he said, "Are you sure it's what you want?"

Merlin nodded vigorously, nibbling his lower lip to keep him from yelling out _yes, Arthur, take me, take me now!_ which, however much he might scream it in his head, was something he really didn't want Arthur to hear. But Arthur waited, obviously needing some kind of auditory confirmation, until eventually Merlin managed to stammer out, "Yes, I do, really. _Yes_."

And then, mercifully, Arthur kissed him and Merlin could stop thinking and go back to the part where he was just enjoying the feel of Arthur's body on his and how right it felt.

Arthur did fuck him, eventually, but not until Merlin was crazy with need and hunger and every tiny part of him was alive from Arthur's touch. Arthur stroked and licked and teased, pinning him gently back to the bed every time Merlin tried to reciprocate. Arthur opened Merlin up with fingers and oil for what felt like hours; until gentle touches had gone to firm thrusts, three fingers inside Merlin stretching and slicking him over and over, until Merlin was starting to get seriously worried that he might come from that alone. Then the fingers were gone and Arthur was between Merlin's thighs; there was nudging and pushing and infuriating pauses while Arthur soothed and kissed him and Arthur pulling Merlin's leg over his shoulder, licking his knee (which sent a jolt of pure pleasure through him, who knew he had sensitive _knees_ of all places?) and then Arthur really pushed inside him. Inch by inch, all stretch and full and very, very full and _right_, and Arthur waited for Merlin to adjust to this new world of _oh fuck, so good_ before he started to move. Then the world shifted again into _oh fuck, fuck, fuck, good, fuck, so, fucking, oh, so, fucking, good, good_, and Merlin wanted to keep it there forever.

He'd almost forgotten about the magic. It was only when he felt the familiar heat rise to his fingers, his power stirring the air and making all things possible, that he remembered he had to breathe, and focus, and _not_.

"Merlin?" Arthur stopped moving, brushed the hair back from Merlin's face with gentle fingers. He was panting. "Okay?"

_Breathe._ Merlin nodded. "It's good." His voice sounded like it wasn't his own: it was deep and growly and sort of _horny_. "It's really good."

Arthur smiled at him. "D'you want to...?" Arthur's hand slid between them, to curl around Merlin's cock.

Merlin nodded gratefully. If Arthur did that, and Merlin breathed, maybe he'd manage to not move any furniture or inadvertently set fire to anything, and thus avoid beheading and still come before his balls exploded. That would be excellent. "Yes," said Merlin, and Arthur began to pleasure his cock with firm, swift pulls, while Merlin breathed and rocked his way into a mind-blowing and thankfully unmagical orgasm.

As he came Merlin kept his eyes firmly open and watched Arthur's face; mostly to keep himself grounded, but when it hit and his body was convulsing, spilling come all over Arthur's hand and chest and his own quivering belly; when Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes and saw _everything_ laid bare, the man's vulnerability and courage and determination to do everything right; when Merlin looked into Arthur's eyes and saw his soul -

\- he was starting to think the dragon might be on to something after all.

Arthur kept fucking him after he'd come; long, slow strokes until Merlin was hard again, and then long slow strokes until Merlin was all but begging again. It was languid pleasure now, a slow burn that gave Merlin the luxury to focus and keep his magic under control. When Arthur came inside him with three swift, tight thrusts and a groan that nearly dragged Merlin with him, Merlin wrapped his limbs tightly around Arthur, held him close and kissed his hair through the afterglow.

After that Arthur arranged Merlin on his side and lay behind him, scandalising Merlin completely by slipping his fingers back inside Merlin's hole, all wet and tender and Merlin knew that Arthur was swirling his own come around in there, like he was claiming territory or something, only it felt so impossibly good that Merlin just blushed and quivered a bit, and took it like a man.

They came again; Merlin grinding into the sheets and Arthur sliding between Merlin's thighs, oil and mess everywhere. Merlin could easily have fallen asleep, but just as he was snuggling his nose into Arthur's soft pillows, there was a loud knock on the door.

Merlin panicked, lacking the brain to take any other course of action. Arthur scrabbled his way into some clothes, while Merlin dived under the covers and hid as best he could.

"Yes?" Arthur boomed. Merlin was impressed by the steadiness and authority of his voice, considering he'd been whimpering _"oh, God, Merlin, you're so, yes, yes, yes"_ into Merlin's neck not three minutes ago.

"My Lord, the King awaits the pleasure of your company at the Tournament Reception."

"I'm on my way," Arthur replied.

There was a muffled, "thank you, Sire," and footsteps echoed away down the corridor.

"Merlin."

Merlin peeked his head out from under the covers.

"You're rubbish at hiding," Arthur observed.

"You're wearing my shirt," replied Merlin.

Arthur looked down at the thin linen undershirt, loose on Merlin but approaching snug on Arthur's broad frame.

"Black suits you," said Merlin, emerging fully from the covers and looking around for the rest of his clothes.

Arthur stripped the shirt off and handed it back to Merlin. "It feels like sandpaper."

It was the softest Merlin owned, but he restrained himself from making any sort of comment about Arthur's over-sensitive, girly skin. He'd rather enjoyed Arthur not being an arrogant bastard for a while, and was in no rush to encourage him to start up again any sooner than strictly necessary.

Once Arthur was washed and dressed and sent off to the reception, Merlin cleared up the supper things and the laundry, and pottered back to his own room.

*

Much later a messenger came to drag Merlin out of bed to go and attend to the Prince. Distinctly unimpressed, Merlin hauled himself upstairs, yawning and ready to complain.

He found Arthur standing by the window, testing the weight of his sword.

"About what happened before, Merlin."

Merlin's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, Arthur?"

Arthur's mouth twitched. "Sire."

"What? Oh, yes. Sire. What?"

"I'm willing to overlook it just this once. It's natural that you might have been a little distracted."

"Sire?"

Arthur levelled his gaze firmly at Merlin, pointing his sword vaguely at Merlin's chest. It was a little unsettling, even if there were several feet between them.

"The bathwater, Merlin," Arthur said. "It's still there."

"Oh!" Merlin grinned broadly. "Yes, it is."

"And?"

"And?"

Arthur gave Merlin an exasperated look, and flicked his sword towards the screen. "Empty it?"

"Oh! You mean you want it _emptied_."

"If it's not too much _trouble_, _Mer_lin."

Arthur's hair was pure gold in the candlelight; his eyes were impossibly blue and his skin was smooth and pale, set off perfectly by the deep black of his shirt.

Merlin grinned broadly. That wasn't the shirt he'd put out for Arthur earlier that evening. Arthur must have picked it out himself.

And very fine it looked, too.

"I'll get on it right away." And Merlin rolled up his sleeves and set to work.

_~Fin~_   
  


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